


I Don't Want To Spoil The Party

by Anonymous6285



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hair, Jealousy, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:40:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23558518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous6285/pseuds/Anonymous6285
Summary: John is jealous of Paul's hair.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	I Don't Want To Spoil The Party

John sighed as he watched Paul run around the house, tidying it up as much as he could before George and Ringo got there. His hair bounced on top of his head, and John’s eyes fixated on it. So fixated on it that he didn’t notice when Paul looked at him.

“John?”

“What?”

“I said what are you staring at?”

John blushed. “Oh, n-nothing.”

“Great. Can you get up and help me with this, now?” Paul knew he was being rude, but he’d been calling John’s name for a good minute to help, and the man hadn’t even acknowledged him.

“Er, yeah. What do you need?”

Paul handed him a pile of dishes. “Take these to the kitchen, please. Thanks.”

John started on his way to the kitchen, but he couldn’t keep his mind off of Paul’s hair. It was so fluffy and big, and John absolutely loved it. Maybe a bit too much. He dropped one of the plates and gasped jumping back, causing more to fall out of his hand.

They all shattered to the ground, and Paul was next to him in seconds, pushing him away.

“Don’t move. There’s glass all around your feet.” Paul ran off to grab the brooms and swept it all away from his feet. “You alright? What happened there?”

“S-sorry. I guess I just got distracted.” Paul bent down to pick up the dust pan now full of little, white shards of glass. John once again found that he couldn’t keep his eyes off of Paul’s hair. It was so beautiful. Why didn’t he have hair like that? 

Against his knowing, he got very angry, and when Paul turned back to him, he seemed taken aback. “What’s wrong? Why do you look so angry?”

“W-what?”

“Oh, er, nevermind. I guess I was just seeing things.” Paul went to throw the glass away, and John finally snapped out of it.

“When are they going to be here?” he asked, desperate to have somebody to talk to other than Paul.

“Soon.” Just then there was a knock on the door. “I guess now.” He hurried over to the door and threw it open. “Hey! You guys ready to play some clue?”

George and RIngo came in with smiles on their faces. “Of course we’re ready!”

They took their shoes off as Paul led them to the table. “Looks like you’ve cleaned up a little,” George chuckled. “Didn’t look like this when I was over the other day.”

“You were over the other day?” Paul asked, confused.

“Yeah. I was working on a solo for one of John’s songs.”

Paul looked over at John and laughed. “You couldn’t take a good five minutes to clean the place for your guest?”

“Why should I? I hardly ever clean it for myself.”

“That’s because I do!”

Ringo walked in between them to stop the petty argument that was getting louder and louder. “Alright, then. Let’s get this start-- ow!” He stepped back and looked down at the floor to see a small piece of glass.

“Oh, God! You alright, Richie?” Paul hurried over to make sure his foot wasn’t bleeding, which it wasn’t.

“Yeah, ‘m fine. Just… why is there glass on your floor?”

“I dropped a plate,” John said, watching Paul as he once again started to pick up the glass from the floor. Everybody else sat down at the table, setting up the board. George pulled a notebook out of his bag, and John eyed him.

“What?” he asked innocently.

“You can’t just have a notebook. That’s cheating. You get the little paper and that’s it.”

“Well, how do you know I’m not just gonna write a story or something while we’re playing? Besides, it’s not cheating. I’m allowed to take whatever notes I want.”

Ringo chuckled. “So definitely not a story.”

“No, it’s not a bloody story! Richie, tell him he can’t do that.”

“Well, why not?”

Paul came up to the table, sitting next to John. “What are you three on about?”

John crossed his arms, pouting. “George is cheating?” When he closed his eyes back, he felt like he was on the verge of crying, and the others saw how red his face was getting. Paul looked over at George, who only shrugged.

“John, I don’t think George--”

“Forget it! I’m not playing with cheaters!” He stood up, throwing his chair back behind him and through his little green playing piece across the table. By the time Ringo had bent down to pick it up off the floor, he had already stormed out of the room.

“What the bloody hell is wrong with him? I just wanted to have a little extra space for me brain thoughts.” George seemed a little hurt by it.

“George, I don’t think it’s you. He’s just been in a weird mood all day.” Paul sighed. “I’ll go get him.”

Paul walked down to John’s room before knocking on his door.

“John? Do you want to come play the game?”

“No! I’m not playing with you!” John gasped when he said it, not meaning to. “I-I mean you guys. George is cheating. He’s probably gonna win anyway.”

“John… Come on, it’ll be fun.” Silence. “Johnny?”

“Fine.” He stormed out of the room, blowing past Paul and angrily wiping at his eyes.

~

By the end of the game, John’s mood had gotten significantly better, and none of them mentioned anything about how mad he was at the beginning.

“Do you wanna play again?”

“Yeah, but can I be Mrs. Scarlet?” Paul asked, a smile on his face.

Ringo pouted. “Aw, I wanna be Mrs. Scarlet.”

“I think Paul should be,” George said. “He has the floofiest hair, and Mrs. Scarlet is that pretty woman with the floofy hair.”

John’s smile dissolved, and he found himself staring at Paul’s hair again. The ringing in his ears drowned out bits of their conversation.

“John? Do you want to play again?”

He grunted and stood up, throwing his chair across the room. The sudden action scared them all.

“No! I’m not playing again! I just wanna be alone! God!” he stormed off once again, and Paul once again ran after him. But he didn’t knock this time, storming into his room to find him sitting on his bed, already in tears.

“John, what’s wrong with you?”

John rolled his eyes. Apparently they’d made it past the ‘Are you okay?’ “Nothing’s wrong with me, Paul. Just get out. I don’t want to look at you.”

“What?”

“Nothing! It’s nothing!”

“If it was nothing, you’d tell me.” Paul sat down on the bed next to him, using his hand to force John to look at him. 

“It’s stupid.”

“I don’t think it can be stupid if it’s making you this upset. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“You’ll get mad at me. It’s really so stupid.”

“I promise I won’t be mad, Johnny.” John took a deep breath and looked down at the floor. “John,” Paul whispered.

“Your hair is so bouncy.”

“What?”

“It’s so pretty and shiny. I wish I could have hair like that.” While John continued to avoid eye contact, he felt a hand in his own hair.

“Johnny, what are you talking about? Do you know how pretty your hair is?”

“W-what?” He looked up and saw Paul smiling back at him.

“Your hair is so pretty. I wish I could have that colour on my head. It’s like red-brown. What’s that like? Probably better than this black. So boring.”

“I-It’s not red at all. I’m not a ginger.”

“That’s what you think. Look, John, it’s fine that you’re jealous. But just because I have nice hair doesn’t mean you don’t.” The hand fell out of John’s hair. “And you definitely do, yeah?”

“O-oh. Thanks.”

“Now, what do you say we get out there and play another game? I’ll let you be Mrs. Scarlet.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Come on, now.” John smiled when Paul took his hand and started to pull him out of the room.


End file.
